In the Spilling of Blood
by LinkIsaacANDLloyd
Summary: A new evil has come to lay waste to an impovershed and war weary Hyrule. Link must stop it before it consumes the entire world, as well as foil a savage cult's lurid schemes. But torn between love and duty, how can he fight against the power of a god?
1. Honor in the dark

Author's note: This is a remake of my old fic, 'The Bloody Handed', which kind of stank. This won't however, as I've put much thought into it. It will get pretty violent at times, almost disturbing to some. But then, it is in the 'horror' genre. Any chapters with anything particuarily nasty will have a warning at the top and a rating of 'M', just in case disturbing images of torture and the like make you ill.

**I highly recommend you read this so you understand the story. You don't have to, but it will help you make sense of it.** In the Zelda series, this takes place about five years after the end of Ocarina of Time. Instead of Link having gone back to a child however, in this he remains an adult in the Hyrule he liberated from Ganondorf. In this, Hyrule had a peaceful perioud of reconstruction for about a year following Ganondorf's demise. Then, disaster struck as Hyrule's South Eastern neighbor, (I always pictured Hyrule as a coastal nation, with Lake Hylia actually begin a large brackish bay, with its western and northern borders open plains, its eastern border dominated by mountains, and its souther border made up of the desert to the south west, a great forest to the south east, and the ocean to the south. That's pretty much how Hyrule will be in this story.) Andoria, invades. In the years that followed, the war brought ruin to all aspects of the economy and Hyrule is only just surviving. During the four years the war was being fought, plauges and famines and natural disasters also struck Hyrule hard. In short, Hyrule is a dieing nation. This story begins just as Hyrule enters its most poorly and sickly state ever, with its armies crushed and falling back all across the country side and its people dieing off from starvation and disease. I think you can all figure out where Link is in all this by yourselves. And yes, it is Romance/Horror, so he will get a girl. I do have some flexibility here, so I will take suggestions for who he will end up with. Ulitmately though, it is my decision. Finally, this chapter doesn't have Link or any major characters, just some OCs. Its kind of like an intro/prelude kind of thing. Irregardless, I think its a pretty darn good way to start this.

Well, that's all you need to know to start reading the story. Lets begin!

Disclaimer: I own nothing of 'The Legend of Zelda'. It is owned by Nintendo and Mr. Miyamoto, and I am only using their genius creation for entertainment purposes and am making no profit on it whatsoever.

-

Captain Oswin of the Hyrulean city guard yawned loudly, leaning back against the wall of the guard house. He stared towards the ground with disinterest, lazily tracing patterns on the cobblestone street with his spear tip. Sighing, he set his spear down next to him and pulled his knees to his chest, glancing around as a cold breeze whipped down the street.

Shivering, he wrapped his ragged cloak around his shoulders tighter, staring into the darkness of the streets. Discarded paper drifted on the freezing wind, mixing with the hundreds of fallen leaves in the autumn air. Yellow and feral eyes stared back at him from the darkness, a desperate longing detectable in their depths.

Shaking his head, he looked away from the hungry stares of the strays, turning his gaze instead towards the night sky. The moon was full, making the night somewhat more illuminated than usual. Shivering again, he pressed closer to the wall and curled up tighter, wrapping the cloak around him until it was stretched to the limits of its strength.

He cursed loudly when he felt a sting of cold air on the bottom of his back, realizing he had ripped a hole in the ragged material of his cloak in his efforts to find warmth. Loud barking down the street ended any further frustration on his part as he dropped the cloak and grabbed his spear, standing ready with the tip pointed menacingly towards the dark.

He heard a yelp of pain and saw a member of the city guard wrapped in a thick fur cloak running clumsily from a stray, holding a knapsack tightly to his chest and making great efforts to protect it from the cold wind and the dog.

"Shoo! Shoo, mutt! Go rot in a gutter, damn you!" the guard shouted, hissing in pain as the dog, just a small terrier, sank its teeth into his ankle.

Oswin dashed forward, whacking the flat side of his spearhead against the dog's back and drawing a yelp of pain from the animal. It released its hold on the other guard and retreated a few steps, turning to face Oswin and growling at him menacingly. Lowering his spear and leaning down so the point was level with the dog's head, he tensed his arms to thrust and kill in an instant.

"Don't even think about it, pooch," he muttered.

As if it could understand the truth of his words, the stray turned away and ran back into the darkness of the city proper. Standing up straight again, Oswin sighed heavily. Turning to look for the other guard, he frowned when he noticed he had already ran inside the guard house, leaving the door wide open. Shaking his head, Oswin entered after him and shut the door, locking it securely.

Looking towards the other guard as he turned from locking the door, he asked, "Well, what did you get this time Magal?"

The other guard, Magal, looked up from his position at the far end of the guard house where the sole source of heat and primary source of light was located. "You'll see," he replied simply, crouching down in front of the wood stove and sticking his hands as close to the heat as he dared.

Frowning, he looked back towards Oswin again. "I think you need to put more wood in the stove, Oswin. The flames have just about died and these embers won't last long without some more fuel."

Cursing, Oswin grabbed a few small logs from the corner next to the door and tossed them to Magal, who fed them into the stove slowly. Sighing contently as fresh flames burst into creation, he took of his fur cloak and laid it on the floor, sitting down on it and leaning back on his hands, letting the warmth wash over him.

"Well?"

"Well what?"

"What have you got?"

He laughed in realization, picking up a knapsack from its place next to the stove, saying, "I was planning to warm it up, you see. Blasted cold freezes just about everything, though I think I managed to get this stuff here without exposing it to much." Opening the knapsack, he handed Oswin a loaf of fresh bread, a flask of whiskey, and a chunk of salted venison, taking the same for himself from the pack.

Oswin couldn't help it as his mouth watered, not even bothering to wipe away the drool as he sank his teeth into the bread. He closed his eyes and moaned in ecstasy, chewing slowly so as to suck every shred of enjoyment from it as he could.

"This is some damn good food, Magal," he said after a while, taking a drink of whiskey. "And some damn fine drink, too! How in Din's name did you get all this, man? This is countless times better than that slop you usually get." His fellow city guardsman winked knowingly at him.

"Oh, I have my connections. Just...don't be expecting anything other than that nasty gruel they call soup for a few days now." Sighing, he took a bite of meat and bread, speaking somewhat successfully around the food in his mouth. "Need to lay low for a bit, you know," he said, smirking wryly. slyly.

Oswin almost choked on a chunk of venison, coughing as he beat his chest and taking a swig of whiskey to clear his throat. "You mean you stole this stuff?!" he asked, outraged.

"Well, of course I did. How else is a soldier supposed to get a decent meal in times like these?"

"But you-. But I-. You cant just-. Ugh... If they catch you..."

"They won't."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Believe me, Oswin," he began reassuringly. "I take great pains to go undetected. Besides, I thought you knew already."

"What? How could I have?" asked Oswin.

"Well...I guess you couldn't have but... You were on lookout, weren't you?"

Furrowing his brow, Oswin looked at Magal strangely for a moment before his face lit up with realization. "Oh! That."

"Yes, that. Why else would you be sitting out in the damned freezing cold?"

Standing up, Oswin shook his head and sighed. "No, I wasn't playing lookout for you. I am a soldier of Hyrule, a protector of the people and an upholder of justice. I refuse to play a part in any of your schemes!" he spat.

"Then why were you outside when you could have been nice and warm in here?" asked Magal curiously.

"I had the foresight to realize that if I had stayed inside, I would have fallen asleep, thus condemning you to the cold for the night since I have the only door key. I was outside suffering in the cold so you wouldn't get locked out in the cold and freeze to death. Besides, you were bringing the food, however ashen it may taste to me now!" finished Oswin vehemently.

Magal smiled weakly as Oswin turned away from him to face the south wall and the firing slits, continuing to enjoy his meal. "Well...thanks for your kind words." he said quietly, turning towards the stove and cramming his bread into his mouth. "Its a harsh world we live in now," he said. "You are aware of that, right?" He noticed his companion nod slowly from the corner of his eye.

"I steal a little food here, a little there, from some rich pompous noble who's hording to much for himself and give it to us so we don't starve to death. Is that so bad, Oswin?"

Eyes narrowed, Oswin turned to Magal and spoke through gritted teeth. "The way I was raised, properly by my family, I was taught something called honor. I don't care how rich someone is or how much food they have stored up for themselves. Stealing is stealing, Magal. We are soldiers of Hyrule, damn you! We are to uphold the law, not ruin it! Have you forgotten that?" He seethed terribly, turning away from his companion again to stare at the shuttered firing slits.

"No, I haven't forgotten," began Magal after awhile. "But to uphold the law you so covet, we need our strength. Otherwise we'll just be run over by the people we're supposed to protect next time a riot comes around. Sound fair enough to you yet?"

"I suppose...you have a minor point there..." said Oswin through gritted teeth.

"Bloody right I do. And besides, do you really think I take just enough for us? I take and take until my pack is bursting at the seams!" he declared, indicated the now empty knapsack sitting to his side. Oswin looked ready to burst with anger at his statement, but Magal continued before he could do anything. "Then, I make a stop at the most desolate and pathetic districts of this damnable city, especially the orphanages and refugee houses. You know what I do there? I hand out food to the needy. It goes without saying I've saved scores of lives by doing this, Oswin. I don't need you to tell me my sense of honor is all off, when clearly its more true than your own!"

Mouth agape, Oswin sighed in defeat, looking towards the floor in shame and offering a hand to Magal. "I am sorry, my friend, to have doubted you so. You were in the right all along; I had no right to say what I said. Its this bloody cold, Magal. Its almost...unnatural, the way it refuses to disperse..." He looked towards the floor in contemplation as Magal scooted closer to him and clapped him on the back.

"Aye, these past years has been brutal to us all. The wars are one thing, but then we have that dreaded drought killing the crops, the plague that slaughtered the livestock, and now this unnatural cold that seeks to end us all. It all reeks of fell powers acting behind the scenes, if you ask me."

"You mean like Ganondorf? Like some of his followers trying to bring him back?"

"No," sighed Magal, standing and walking over to one of the shuttered firing slits. "This feels like something else, if you ask me. Remember, I always had that feeling before Ganondorf's bastard underlings attacked before? Remember how accurate it was? Well I haven't had even a twinge of that lately. Not even a hint at it."

"What do you think it is, then?" asked Oswin tentatively, picking up his venison from the floor and brushing it off. "What could be worse than Ganondorf?"

"I never said this was worse than that madman," snapped Magal. "It might be, but I doubt anything could. We're all just rather superstitious at the moment more than anything. Just a really bad patch of weather probably."

"A patch of bad weather and a series of unfortunate events which have been continuous the past few years?" asked Oswin through a mouthful of meat. "Somehow I doubt its a coincidence."

"Oh, bloody hell Oswin! I shouldn't have brought it up! Now we can't stop pondering about the end of all things. I think we-" He paused abruptly, looking at Oswin with a questioning look.

"What?"

"I thought you said it tasted like ash."

"Well...that was before I was enlightened to your selfless actions."

Chuckling, Magal sat down against the wall next to a boarded up firing slit, stretching out his leg and dragging his cloak to him with his heel. Oswin shook his head and snickered as he devoured his food with newfound hunger as Magal wrapped the cloak around him and laid down with his back to the wall.

Slowly, he drifted off to sleep, the muffled howling of the wind outside, the crackle of the wood stove's flames, and the sounds of Oswin eating all that permeated his peaceful state. To him though, they were just background noise and before long he was fast asleep and oblivious to all around him.

The air outside dropped to a subzero chill as the wind began blowing faster and stronger in the dead darkness of the Hyrulean night.

-

Like an ocean caught in a storm, the cloud of darkness writhed and heaved as it stalked across the endless grassy plains of Hyrule. It clicked and snapped, sniffing at the air and taking labored steps though it had no mouth, nostrils or limbs with which it could.

It was a roiling, heaving, twitching pool of dark. Like magma bursting into the icy water of the northern seas it hissed, the gaping maw silhouetted in its depthless self opening and closing to bare teeth which collapsed in wisps of black smoke and then remade themselves as they saw fit.

Twisting with countless physical impossibilities, it heaved onward through the night. The ground on which it stepped died instantly, all objects in the space sucked of their color and life. One could trace an eerie trail through the fields where it had passed, and yet the trail would not lead to where it had come from, for the trail never ended. Nor did it begin. It was merely more impossible madness spawned by the impossible cloud of darkness that stalked through the night on limbs that did not exist and guided by senses it should not possess.

Around it, the wind seemed to twist and heave, growing colder and colder until it possessed a chill so potent it could have frozen the very molten depths of the earth. But instead, it blew faster until it cut through the air like a great whirlwind, scything the air and screaming like a thousand children as they lay dieing.

Without the means to do so, it sniffed the air and screeched, taking off at a ferocious pace and screaming through the fields like a wild beast overtaken by the thrill of the hunt. The ground groaned and churned violently as it plowed a path through the field, carving a hideous scar across the landscape. It smashed through a large stone wall that towered over the surrounding plains, obliterating the structure with a tremendous cracking noise and sending chunks of masonry hundreds of feet in the air and in all directions.

Skidding to a halt as it reached the crest of the hill before it, it screeched into the night once more, the noise horrifying and grating. Before it in the valley below was a great city, its walls large and its structures numbering in the thousands as they stretched beyond even the impossible yet potent senses of the darkness. Towing above them all, a great castle surged into the sky and dominated everything around it. The sight would have been impressive, but the darkness did not see as men saw.

It looked at the city and purred in feral pleasure as it saw the buildings shatter, blood pour into the moat from a million eviscerated corpses, and people scream as they were fed into the eternal flames of Hell and their souls forever damned and slaughtered by things to evil to fully exist in the mortal realm.

Screeching one last time into the night, it gouged a depression in the earth and barreled down the hill towards the city, intent on making its lurid visions a stark reality. Its scything winds screamed into the air and smashed into walls with the force of a thousand cannons as hundreds of shadowy figures disgorged from its presence as it vanished into thin air. It was as if it had never existed.

As the first bloodcurdling scream of terror rent the night like an explosion from Death Mountain itself, the city came awake in a surge of terror and panic. But when the people ran into the streets, they were met by not only an impossible vision of evil, but a horde of slavering, depraved men who set about to pillage and slaughter with a passion unheard of in all the tongues and histories of man.

-

Oswin awoke suddenly, his breath caught in his chest as icy cold wind threw him violently against the wall. The howling of the wind was almost deafening as he struggled to prop himself up on his hands and knees, looking up towards the front wall and the firing slits.

Splintered shards of the boards that had just moments before covered the firing slits to keep out the cold cut through the air dangerously close to his head as he beheld the empty darkness of Hyrule field through the now open spaces. Magal crawled over to him and tapped him on the shoulder, drawing his attention away from the shapeless black cloud that was billowing towards the city.

"We have to get out of here! The whole bloody thing is going to come down on our heads!" he shouted, barely audible over the clamor of the wind. The entire structure groaned and appeared to sway as support beams cracked and splintered, dumping tons of stone and rotten wood on top of them.

Without bothering to acknowledge the reality of his statement, Oswin began moving towards the door after his companion. Magal stumbled and cried out in pain as another one of the shuttered firing slits fell against the wind, sending thousands of splintered fragments towards him. Most flew over him, hitting the wall harmlessly. But many hit him, driven deep into him by their great speed.

"Magal!"

Reaching his side, Oswin inhaled sharply when he saw the damage. Blood was trickling down Magal's body from countless tiny wounds, each negligible on their own, but combining to cost him vast amounts of blood. His breathing was haggard and came in short gasps, each breath clearly laced with intense pain as the cold penetrated deep into his body through his many wounds. To make matters worse, he wasn't even conscious.

"Magal, come on! We cant stay here! Wake up!" cried Oswin hysterically. "The whole bloody roof is going to fall on us if you don't get up! Goddesses know I cant carry you and get out in time!"

Eyeing the door longingly, Oswin made to abandon his friend. As he crawled away however, he chanced a glance backward and saw Magal's shattered and pitiful body, bloody and dieing. He swallowed hard, whimpering as his basest, most fearful instincts called for him to flee and his humanity urged him to save his friend. Groaning in frustration, he turned and ran back to Magal's limp form.

"Damn you, Magal..." he muttered.

Oswin hoisted Magal up, throwing his arm around his shoulder and stumbling around for a few precious moments before he compensated for the extra weight. Moving as fast as he could, he cried out in surprise when a terrible crack split the air. Looking over his shoulder, Oswin felt his heart almost stop as he beheld the support beams giving way, splinters and chunks of ill-maintained wood flying through the air as the weight of the roof came down upon them.

Sprinting at a speed born of desperation, Oswin flung himself and his crippled companion at the door, smashing their way through and out onto the freezing streets in a shower of splinters. He released a breathe he wasn't aware he had been holding, falling to his hands and knees and panting heavily. Looking up towards the city proper, his breathe caught in his throat.

Many of the visible buildings were aflame, the smoke rising into the air and blackening even the night sky. Screams of terror rent the air and the sounds of vicious fighting seemed to come from everywhere at once. Looking back at the walls, Oswin nearly fainted at the impossible spectacle.

The great walls that had withstood the test of time and countless wars against both human and demonic enemies was almost completely annihilated. Great cuts were rent through it at random intervals, the pieces flung around and smashed into nearby buildings. Much of it was still being destroyed, the devastation so incredible that even now it was still crumbling.

Going pale, he noticed what had brought down the guard house. The entirety of the main gate, draw bridge included, as well as much of the nearby wall, had been brought down on top of it. That he and Magal had escaped at all was nothing short of incredible.

Looking around at the destruction done to the city, Oswin felt anger and the urge to kill those responsible rise within him. Glancing towards the ruins of the guard house, he picked up Magal and secreted him underneath a part of the wall that was propped up against what was left of the guard house's northern wall. Digging through the rubble, he miraculously found Magal's fur cloak and some of the blankets he had been using before their rude awakening.

Putting what could be salvaged of the ruined food he found nearby his motionless body, Oswin hung the blankets over the opening and shoved more rubble in the way to further block him from view and from the cold. Laying his cloak over him and lighting a small fire in Magal's hiding place, Oswin stepped back and surveyed his work.

"Well, it certainly doesn't make up for the fact I almost left you for dead to save my own skin. Nothing ever will. But at least now you'll be safe and won't freeze to death while I figure out what's going on." Looking up into the night sky, he shivered as a great feeling of dread fell over him. "Maybe if I live through this...and you don't die on me, I can at least try and make it up to you. Maybe..."

Satisfied he had done all he could for his friend, Oswin began digging around in the rubble for a weapon. Fortunately, his probing hands soon grasped the hilt of a sword and he pulled it free of the ruins. Taking a few test swings, he buckled it to his belt and ran back onto the street.

Turning towards the smoke filled city, he said a quick prayer to the Goddesses and charged into the darkness.

-

Author's note: What did you think? Not bad? Horrible? Pure genius? Let me know, please! I will try and update soon, worry not.


	2. Times Gone Up In Flames

_Well, here it is. I apologize in advance if it takes me awhile to update. I'm just pathetic like that XD. _

_Read and review please! But most of all, enjoy!_

-

It was a bitter sight, an utter wasteland of dead grasses and earth laid bare from raging flames. They sky matched the depressing scene, a thorough overcast of bleak grey blocking much of the sun's warming and peaceful rays from reaching the ground. Trees which had once covered the land in so many places were now gone, either destroyed or laid completely bare.

With the lack of tree cover, the winds swept across the countryside like vicious scythes, picking up immeasurable amounts of ash and dead particles of life. That deathly powder was hurled into the sky where it drifted slowly back to the ground, blotting out even more sunlight in the process.

Like massive lacerations in the earth, great trenches ran throughout the landscape, pathetic trickles of foul, fetid water flowing slowly along their great lengths. In these once mighty rivers, besides the stagnant water there lied other things.

Whether by natural happenstance or the mechanisms of man, scores of bodies littered the dry riverbed. Sucked bone dry of all their blood, the ragged and bloodied corpses of animals and humans alike brought new horror to a sight already bitter and chilling.

Who knew by what means those unfortunates found themselves slaughtered and left to rot, forgotten by all save their own miserable, departed selves? No one knew, and given the doom they all shared coming down upon them, none cared.

-

'_So many faces...' _

His expression grim, he could not look away from the faces as they went up in flames. The fire licked across those faces, so cold and filled with pain, and he wept. Visions untold possessed him in that moment, and he was lost.

_A man, young, perhaps not even twenty, his entrails spilling over the face of the dead man beneath him, a sweetheart at home who would never see him again... Another, older, likely married with children, his throat torn out and his widow weeping with her love forever departed to the realm of bloody lusts and war eternal..._

"Link! Look alive!"

Awakened suddenly from his sorrowful thoughts, Link jumped to his feet with a start. He cast a glance at the flames, closing his eyes as feelings unnamable touched his soul. He saw the chaplains chanting as men clustered around that fire and many others wept, their tears unchecked as they mourned departed friends, brothers, and comrades.

The scent of burning flesh reached his nostrils as he turned to the man standing behind him, the one who woke him from his deep thoughts.

"'Look alive'?" he questioned, nodding towards the weeping men clustered around the corpse pyres. "Funny."

The other man smiled weakly, fidgeting with his battered chain mail. Seeing Link's expressionless stare, he chuckled weakly and looked behind him, where the rolling hills of Hyrule stretched off into the distance, their once great majesty replaced by a dead landscape.

"Just wanted to see if you were ready..." he mumbled.

"Ready for what?" quipped Link.

Looking unsure at first, he shrugged off his leaden feelings and said, "The captain says our company is going to do some...intensive recon. So...we need to leave...right now."

Link chuckled and turned half-way round towards the large fire, pointing at it. "You see that?" he began, his expression turning sour in an instant. "That _is_ our company. What's left? You, me, Captain Mical, Bismark, and Davis? They still have us marked as a _full _company of _one hundred_!?"

"I know... That General Morgahn sure is full of hot air, huh?" agreed the other man. "According to the captain though, they figure that if the Andorians have an ambush in store for us, then losing the five of us to that isn't going to be any big deal. Then, they can bring in the main force and any ambush the enemy had would have been revealed by our...unfortunate demise. Our survival is...secondary to just about everything else on the general's mind."

"Dammit Stefan... This is not how I wanted to end my military career, let alone my _life_!" fumed Link, stalking away from the corpse pyres.

Stefan appeared ready to say something, but fell silent and raced after Link to match him stride for stride. Coming to the top of a hill, they stopped. Turning around, they took in the scene in the small valley below.

The barren remnants of a river bordered the small valley to the east, and a high ridge towered over it to the west. Both north and south ends were open, the north sloping gently towards the rolling plains of Hyrule and the south staying at about the same level as the valley, stretching off into the distance and eventually reaching the edge of the Great Forest. But it was not geography which concerned them.

Within the confines of the valley, hundreds of corpses and all the majesty of war littered the dead earth, spilling into the dried riverbed. The chaplains, figures concealed entirely by dark cloaks, walked amongst the carnage, sorting the dead into large piles of either Hyrulean or Andorian and then setting them aflame. Some of the soldiers helped, but most wept for their fallen comrades.

Shaking his head, Link turned from the sight and walked away quickly. Stefan recovered a few moments later from his own reverie, dashing to catch up with Link.

The sicknesses that had plagued Hyrule since the outbreak of the war had cost many thousands of lives. To burn the bodies of the dead was considered a great dishonor and atrocity in Hyrulean society. Yet, by the mechanisms of desperation, they had been forced to.

Already stretched to the breaking point holding back the more numerous and better equipped Andorians, they could not afford any loss of life that could have otherwise been prevented with simple counter-measures. Such as burning the corpses after every battle so that sickness may not infect the body and spread to the living.

Link knew all this. Yet he couldn't help but feel disgusted by the practice of it, let alone actually seeing it. Then why, he wondered, was he drawn to the pyres each time they were lit? The visions he beheld in the flames were never good, whether they be of bloody and violent deaths or horrible and gut-wrenching sorrow.

Fighting against the fell legions of Ganondorf, Ganondorf himself, and now the armies of mighty Andoria had given Link a very healthy dosage of blood. An amount which should never be taken in an entire lifetime. He had grown numb to killing, taking the lives of his foes without question and showing no quarter.

He was well known for his expert swordplay, but not for his stoic and unpleasant personality, which prevented him from rising anywhere in the ranks where such a thing was needed. The war had made him bitter, cynical, and in some ways even ruthless and savage. But underneath his new demeanor, that which had been birthed in the savage gardens of war, his old one still remained, though it was quite buried and smothered underneath the stress, anger, frustration, and loneliness of the last four years of his life.

He missed the caress of the warm sun upon his face, the sensation of a cool breeze on his skin. He missed the sight of the green fields that stretched beyond the limits of his perception, the beauty of the trees and the flowers in full bloom, the serenity of the rivers' and the lake's crystal depths, her vibrant and beautiful face...her eyes so filled with glimmers of happiness and contentment...

That Hyrule which he had won back from Ganondorf and restored was now lost. Lost to the war.

Lost to the Andorians and their savage ways.

"Link? Are you alright?"

Link looked up, surprised, to see Stefan standing several paces in front of him, concern written clearly on his face. "What...?" he asked, his voice shaky.

"You look like you're about to break down and weep and murder about fifty people at the same time. Are you alright?" Stefan took a step forward and raised an eyebrow.

Link just then realized that his fists were clenched, his jaw was locked, and just about every muscle in his body was flexed. Sighing loudly and realizing how strange he must have surely looked, he relaxed his tense body and looked towards Stefan, his expression weary.

"I'm sorry for the delay, Stefan. Lets hurry to the camp."

As he speedily walked by, his companion called out to him, "are you sure you're alright?"

"Yes," he called back. "I'm fine. There isn't anything wrong."

Scratching the back of his neck, Stefan cocked an eyebrow and stared towards Link oddly, who was walking as fast as he could towards the camp which still laid a ways away. Shrugging, Stefan set off at a sprint after his companion.

-

The main encampment of Hyrulean forces in the field was set atop a large hill which overlooked the surrounding countryside for miles in every direction. It was based in the ruins of an ancient castle, its once great walls and towers now fallen far from their former glory. Every feature seemed to exemplify both the unkemptness of the camp and the desperation of the Hyruleans based there.

The southern wall, the wall which so happened to be facing their enemies, was just about crumbled to pieces. Chunks of the wall's rubble had been broken down into more manageable pieces and put away in storage. When, not if, the time came to defend the fortress from attack, the rubble could be thrown from catapult and trebuchet towards the enemy army. The other walls happened to be in poor shape as well, though with a wide open breach right in front of them what enemy would bother breaking them down?

Surrounded by the walls was quite a large collection of tents and ramshackle huts. Men, women, and children lived in the dirt with their animal friends, subsisting like feral beasts amidst their pathetic dwellings and on meager rations. The autumn rains had made matters worse, turning the once dead and dusty ground into a massive pool of nearly ankle-deep mud.

Those men that were not soldiers tended to the few duties they could perform; repairing and creating armor and weaponry with bits and pieces of scrap metal and other metal tools and such that were to damaged to be used anymore. There was no new material to be had. They were forced to make due with the stuff taken from dead soldiers and most of their craft was enough to make any proper blacksmith weep. But their shoddy craft made little or no difference, as most of the soldiers armed themselves with the weapons and armor of their fallen comrades and foes. Andorian splint-mail was just one highly sought after prize.

While their men literally poured their sweat and blood into their metal working, the women were at near constant work stockpiling food, preparing food, raising food, and tending to any animals that happened to still be alive. What little they managed to get was almost always poorly, and those women who didn't have to deal with food but instead with injuries and sickness were generally overwhelmed with cases of food poisoning.

The children meanwhile, many of whom had been born inside the fortress and were barely old enough to walk, were carried around with their mothers or fathers and did whatever they could to help. Obviously, in such horrid conditions many of them died, from sickness and disease and from malnourishment.

At the center of the squalid community was the castle's massive keep, easily the only thing about the fortress that anyone could be proud of. It had been repaired and in places redone when the war had first begun, and so compared to everything around it, it actually looked like part of a proper fortress. Possibly the single most inspiring thing about it was the Hyrulean flag which fluttered from its very top spire. It was a massive flag, and despite all odds it appeared spotless and almost seemed to glow faintly. One look at it was enough to inspire even the most desolate of souls within the fortress. It was that constant inspiration, that constant reminder of what they were fighting for, that had kept the people there from descending into anarchy.

Link and Stefan exchanged glances as they stood at the bottom of the hill, on top of which sat the fortress.

"I didn't think it was possible, but..."

"Yes. It appears that its taken on even more of the qualities of a cesspool. As if it didn't have enough before..."

Link nodded slowly and sighed, turning to Stefan. "Well...lets not keep the captain waiting..."

Stefan nodded and the two began the trek up the hill, an air of anxiety and sadness hanging over their heads. Neither could have possibly guessed what the coming weeks held in store for them and the entire land of Hyrule.

-

_I tacked that last exchange between Link and Stefan on at the last minute just so I could post it. Pathetic, yea? I hadn't written this for awhile and forgot what I had planned, so I needed to end it somehow. I don't think its that bad, actually. All I really did was split what would have been a much larger chapter into two separate parts. Well anyway, I'll try and update soon. Review please! (reviews mean faster updates, in case you didn't get the memo)_


	3. A Plan Is Set

_Hello again everyone. I updated surprisingly fast, didn't I? Awesome, no? Also, the second half of this chapter could be called 'dirty' by many people, thus giving this chapter a rating of 'M' just to be safe. But there is a reason for it. Its gross, very gross, and I fully intended it to be that way. It all has to do with Andorian culture, which is explained a tiny bit this chapter, and alot deeper next chapter, but not nearly entirely. Enjoy, and if you really are grossed out by it, just skip the last part. It doesn't have anything crucial in it to the plot really. Just my weak attempt at comic relief. Haha..._

-

The war room was not any better off than the rest of the fortress. It was cramped, noisy, the ground was nothing but mud, and the combined stench of pestilence, decay, and both animal and human wastes threatened to overpower one's senses. It was also extremely dim, the only lighting being the scattered lanterns, which barely had enough oil to hold a flame within them.

Large sweaty men clad in filth-ridden mail and plate armor leaned over a large and wobbly wooden table, pouring over uncountable maps and charts. They argued loudly and forcefully with intimidating physical gestures amongst each other over the contents of the papers.

The light of the lanterns cast shadows all across the table, the papers, and the men. It was a miracle any of them could see what they were looking at in any detail, let alone with enough scrutiny to make out the tiny details they argued over.

"We must not let this atrocity stand, lord-general! We must ride forth and punish those Andorians for their vile actions!" yelled a man with long greasy black hair. He pounded his fist on the table for effect. "What kind of army are we if we cannot keep the enemy from going around us and attacking the very heart of our country!"

There was a loud murmuring of agreement amongst the men. They nodded and talked in hushed whispers amongst each other. Now perhaps they could unite on an issue.

"Hot blooded young whelp! Cornic, you will learn to not be so impetuous and learn to have some tactical sense, lest you lose your head!" An older man with graying brown hair stood up and pointed accusingly at the younger man from across the table. "You think we've outlasted the Andorians this long by 'riding out' to meet them in open combat? Do you not recall the battle of the Great Forest? What happened there, damn you!? What happened to our army when we tried to fight them as you would have us now!?"

Another man with short-cropped black hair stood from his seat, raised an arm towards each man, and looked at each in turn. Slowly, he said, "Both of you sit down and calm yourselves. We do no good by fighting ourselves more than the enemy." Grudgingly, both of the feuding men sat down slowly. The mediator remained standing and looked around the table at everyone else. All attention was on him.

"I did not give blood for this country and this war," he spat, pointing vehemently towards his left eye, which was nothing but a milky white orb with a large scar running through it from his forehead to beneath his jaw, "to see it be decided and ultimately be lost by a pack of absolute fools! Would you have us assume the Andorians did this to Hylia? To the capitol? You are all greater fools than I could have ever imagined!"

One with a clean-shaven baldhead pockmarked with bruises and scars stood up with a look of defiance on his grisly face. "Who else then, Captain Mical, could be responsible for such a thing? It only makes sense the Andorians would do it! While our armies are weak and cowering behind these crumbling walls in this wretched place, why not advance quickly and sack the undefended capitol city!? The nation as a whole would not be far behind! Does that not make absolute sense to you and everyone else!?"

"Aye!" No one else could muster the strength to overwhelm the capitol!"

"Ha! The defenses are formidable and no mangy Andorian army is going to simply march right over them in a single night without us seeing some sign of it! They couldn't have!"

"No one else is capable of it!"

"The Andorian forces aren't mobile enough for it!"

"Idiots! Sit down and be silent! Know your places, all of you. The captain has the floor at the moment, and you will respect his presence!" Everyone immediately fell silent and the air of rebellion against Captain Mical's views smothered instantly from the lack of fuel, much like the flickering lantern flames.

"Thank you, Lord-General Morgahn." The lord-general nodded respectfully at Mical as he sat back down in his large chair, his massive suit of burnished golden armor clinking and rattling with each movement. "Who else, Captain Briggs? I wish I had an answer to that. I know we all want an answer to that, because I know we all secretly agree that there is no way the Andorians are responsible for this. How could they? The Andorian supreme commander, Zelkius, is far too cautious to make such a bold move.

"History has been on our side in this war," he continued, looking around and smirking to himself as he saw frowns of distaste turn slowly to expressions of understanding. "Hyrule's constant survival through the ages against impossible odds makes Zelkius far more cautious than usual to advance on his enemies. He has no way of fully knowing what we have at our disposal to stop him, since lets face it, Andorian espionage is an absolute joke. Unfortunately, we all know that we do not have much left at this point. As soon as the Andorians finally discover that the Gorons have pulled back to defend their lands from a lizard-man invasion, they will likely press forth with their full strength. Nevertheless, back on topic, the Andorians could, but simply would not, make such a bold move.

"Obviously, it would have taken a pretty decent sized force to take the capitol and do the amount of damage we've observed from here so far. Just as obvious, is the fact that a force of sufficient size could in no way have moved into position to stage an attack, let alone have attacked without alerting us to their presence. I do wish I could tell you what could do this, but until we have a detailed report of what happened at the capitol, there is nothing we can do but assume something else attacked the city."

"Something 'else', Mical? asked a sneering Cornic. "What is this 'something else'?" Several of the other captains, which preferred Cornic's stance to Mical's crossed their arms and smirked as they watched the exchange.

"I have not the slightest idea, Captain Cornic. Would you like to offer something up, besides the Andorians, which we've already proven to be false?" Mical's manner was calm and collected. He knew Cornic was trying to get to him. He had been through this to many times before to fall for it, however. Had Cornic not been such a bastard, Mical might have felt sorry for his sad state of almost groveling for a hand out from his superiors.

"Of course not, fool! Maybe the Andorians could not have done this, but it is the only explanation that makes sense! What are we to do when left with only one explanation, even if we know it is false?"

"You still believe the Andorians are responsible? What possible hope there may have been for you has all washed away, you sad, diminutive little man," seethed Mical.

Cornic laughed obnoxiously, running a hand through his greasy black dreads and grinning evilly at Mical. "At least I can keep my damned men alive. You're nothing but a failure in that respect; to the Goddesses, to Hyrule, to all the families who will never see them again…"

Mical snarled and drew his sword, leaping onto the table and diving for Cornic with his sword aimed to impale him and pin him to his chair. His swift movements caused the flames on many of the lanterns to flicker dangerously and some were snuffed out entirely. Moving with astonishing speed, Cornic brought his own sword to bear and swung blindly in desperation.

The war room was much darker now, and the flash of sparks that accompanied the violent and jolting clang of metal stained the vision of every man in the room with bright splotches of color.

There was a cry of surprise and a yell of rage, followed by a loud clattering and the sound of splintering wood as Mical grabbed Cornic and his chair and pulled them both down to the floor hard.

Immediately Mical was on top of him, pounding his fist hard into Cornic's face repeatedly with increasing force. Blood spurted across his armor as he shattered the trembling man's nose.

Out of nowhere, Cornic threw a desperate punch, which connected with Mical's left eye. Bright explosions of color filled his vision and he fell back, clutching his eye and crying out in pain.

Massaging his temples as the two continued their vicious fight; Lord-General Morgahn leaned forward in his chair and rested his elbows on the table. Staring to his left at his scuffling officers, he yawned loudly. Shaking his head, he decided it would be best for everyone if they didn't kill each other.

"My captains," he said suddenly, interrupting Mical and Cornic's fight and drawing all attention to him, "obviously we have no information on what happened last night. We know it could not have been the Andorians, and we missed whatever else it may have been as we were so involved in the battle by the Zora River Ridge. I believe we need to send a scouting force out, one that will reveal the nature of this attack to us so that we may better react to it and prevent any future disasters like it from occurring. …Would anyone like to volunteer their company?"

No one raised their hand. Despite their burning desires for advancement, especially in Cornic's case, none truly had the spine to leave the relative safety of the fortress and go out into the field on a possibly highly dangerous and hostile mission.

"Get up off the floor, both of you!" shouted the lord-general. Mical and Cornic frantically stood to their feet and ran back to their place at the table. Cornic, who now lacked a chair, was forced to lean on the table for support, as he swayed back and forth, still not fully recovered from the blows Mical had landed on him.

"Me and my men will go, lord-general," said Mical after a few tense minutes of silence. As he stood slowly from his seat, the expression on the lord-general's face changed from annoyance to intrigue. The other captains stared at him as if he had suddenly grown horns and fangs and taken flight on demonic wings.

"You do realize, captain, that we know nothing of the nature of the force which attacked the capitol. Moreover, your company was more or less wiped out in the battle last night. There are about five men left including you. If whatever attacked is still inside the city, you are almost assured to not come back alive," finished the lord-general slowly. Secretly he was smiling to himself. Only Mical would volunteer for the kind of job that almost guarantied death in any number of ways.

"We are prepared to serve Hyrule to the very end, lord-general. I speak for my men as well as myself when I say; I swear that we shall not fail you, sir."

"I shall hold you to that oath, captain. Return alive and with vital information. The destruction doesn't seem to spread too far into the city, let alone anywhere near the castle, but I'd rather not be to cavalier in this. I want to know if we are required to pull back to the city as soon as possible."

"I understand sir."

"Dismissed captain, and remember; you have a reputation to live up to."

With a simple salute, Captain Mical turned and left the war room at a steady pace, his body rigid as he did his best to retain parade ground posture until he was out of sight of the lord-general. The rest of the captains watched him go with glints of envy in their eye.

Cornic in particular was peeved. The lord-general had given Mical his personal blessings for success. "Glory hogging bastard…" he grumbled under his breath.

Lord-General Morgahn watched Mical go and chuckled to himself, making the symbol of the Triforce in front of his chest with his thumbs and forefingers. Save for Cornic, every officer followed his example.

-

Link followed Stefan down the winding staircase, which led to the fortress' basement. The air was cold, damp, and filled with the scent of rat urine and the sounds of vermin chewing and clawing at the food stores.

Shivering, Link wondered whose idea it was to put the armory in such a dismal place. A place where the air was so damp and so cold that it was a miracle a torch could be lit at all.

At the bottom of the stairs was a large wooden door, securely locked and flanked on either side by a burly guard. Unlocking the doors as they approached, the guards ushered them inside with a wave of their halberds. Their heavy mail clinked loudly with every movement they made.

The doors slamming shut behind them, Link and Stefan moved into the illumination of the torches. They saw Bismark and Davis sitting quietly on the floor, their backs against the far wall. Upon noticing Link and Stefan, they waved them over glumly.

"Its nice to see you two made it back in one piece. There's supposed to be quite a lot of Andorians who fled the battle last night and are wandering around the fields," said Davis as Link and Stefan sat down across from them.

"We would have been alright even if we had come across some of them. We were on the front line for that damned battle and we came out of it alive. I doubt there's much that could really stand a chance of killing us," laughed Link.

"So what are we doing here now?" asked Stefan.

"Waiting for the captain, I guess," said Bismark boredly. "Last time I heard anything, he was gather intelligence for our mission."

"Ah yes, the mission," said Davis. "Those morons in command decide to send an absolutely decimated company with five damned survivors off on a dangerous recon mission! Brilliant!"

"Stefan here says we're going back to the capitol, and we're to hunt down any enemy ambushers or at least mark their positions to the main army. Is that right you two?" asked Link.

"I have not the slightest fucking clue what we're doing Link, but I do know we're not pulling back to the city. I don't know where he got that idiot information, but its certainly not true." He sneered at Stefan who made a rude gesture back. "You only wish you could, Stefan. You damn...fag!"

Link and Bismark laughed as Stefan's face turned beet-red and he stood up and made ready to attack Davis. Unfazed by Stefan's hostile advance, Davis procured a leather skin and took a deep draught from it. "Ahhh. Now this is a fine ass beverage!" Holding the skin out towards Stefan, he said, "Drink as much as you want from that. Then we can call it even, alright?" Stefan merely nodded slowly and took the skin from his outstretched hand and sat down slowly.

"So what is it?" asked Link as he looked towards Stefan, who had begun to drink deeply of whatever was in the skin. Bismark smiled and laughed, unable to stand the sight of Stefan guzzling the drink.

"It's… Well, its Andorian blood wine," said Davis with a smirk. Link looked at him with a look of surprise.

"Andorian blood wine… Where the Hell did you get that? Off a corpse?"

"Well where else would I get an Andorian drink when we're at war with Andoria, Link? C'mon, I thought you were smarter than that!" said Davis jokingly.

"But don't they make that stuff with actual blood in it, among other things?" asked Link curiously. He cast another glance at Stefan. He was still drinking the wine greedily and paid no heed to Link's question.

"Of course! You can't have blood wine, especially Andorian, without blood in it. Not to mention the other things they put in there, yes. Of course, to them its all just a part of their disturbing culture. The things they do..." said Davis with a look of revulsion on his face.

"Semen!" exclaimed Bismark suddenly as he fell over laughing. "They think it makes them strong so they put it in most of their food and drink! Blood wine espcially!"

Stefan's eyes seemed to bulge out of his head as he threw the skin violently at Davis. He gagged and convulsed violently, running into a corner of the armory and spitting up as much of the stuff as he could. He shouted obcenities at Davis between his gagging fits.

As Bismark and Davis rolled about on the floor laughing, Link watched them and the retching Stefan with a look of dismay on his face. Suddenly, the doors opened slowly and they could all hear hurried footsteps and clinking armor coming towards them.

"Well good afternoon to you all," said Mical wearily. "Just another day at war, eh? Wrong! We have work to do men, and it is like nothing we have done before. So get over here and listen up," he said annoyingly, clearing a table of clutter with a sweep of his arm and spreading a large chart across it.

He looked about to begin when he heard Stefan spitting up loudly in the corner. "What the- For Din's sake…" Walking over to him, Mical grabbed Stefan by the shoulders and heaved him upright. Dragging him to the table, he berated him harshly.

"What in Din's name were you doing, son? It's a miracle any of us get any food around here at all, so why go wasting it by throwing it all up like some stuck up fat princess who wants to starve herself skinny!?"

"S-Sir I…I couldn't help it. They made me drink blood wine… Sir, they said its got semen in it!" whined Stefan as he wrestled free of his captain's grip and went to stand by the table, leaning on it for support.

"Andorian blood wine, eh? Which one of you did this to a good, honest soldier like Stefan here?" For fear of a terrible retribution, none of them raised their hands while Stefan glared at each of them in turn.

Link avoided his gaze and tried not to burst out laughing when it struck him just how hilarious the situation was. "Is that it?" asked Mical, pointing towards the skin sitting on the floor by the back wall. "Is that what had the wine in it?"

Seeing Stefan nod slowly, Mical walked over and picked the skin up. "Still some left…" he muttered. Raising it to his mouth, he drank what was left and tossed the skin aside. "You call that actual Andorian blood wine? There is no taste...its pathetic how watered down this is!" He hawked loudly and spat a nasty black glob into the shadows away from where they were standing. "And Stefan," he began," even the Andorians rarely do something that disgusting, although its not unheard of. Now then, let's get to work..."

-

_As for the obvious change in Mical's attitude, he had to go along with ceremony and whatnot in the presence of the lord-general. With his men he can be as course and assinine as he wants. Also, I fully intend Davis to be a complete bastard. Just in case you couldn't tell...and yea, the blood wine. Gross? I hope so. It helps me paint the picture of the Andorians which you will begin to understand more and more throughout the story. Review please._


	4. Their Final Charge

_Wow, I updated pretty fast. Anyway, I know I probably grossed some people out last chapter with the whole 'bloodwine' incident, but whatever. It was quite deliberate. The Andorians, as will be explained in greater detail in this chapter, are a savage people. I can only tell you so much, but think of it like this: They believe a person's strength can be passed on through blood, flesh, bone, and yes, even sexual fluids. I won't have anyone eating poo, don't worry...haha... Hopefully that puts it in perspective a little bit for you all, even though last chapter I was very immature about it. But then, when you look at what the soldiers have been through, they're going to be letting off steam in just about any way they can, so it makes sense. All clear then? Then read and review please!_

-

Under the cover of darkness, five figures slipped out of the fortresses' northern gates. They kept low, their long, black hooded cloaks serving to camouflage them as they crept along the road slowly.

The road ran from the gate all the way into the darkness until it was lost to sight, eventually coming to the city gates where it turned to a neat and pleasing cobblestone path. Of course, for their mission the road would be far too dangerous

The lead figure held up a hand and they all stopped instantly. Hands tightened on sword hilts as they glanced around nervously into the dark.

"Into the grass," Captain Mical whispered.

Wordlessly, Link and the rest obeyed, shifting like shadows into the tall, dead grasses which grew alongside the road. It cracked and snapped from their slightest movements. They crouched down on instinct so it would provide them with better cover.

The captain craned his neck as high as he could, looking over the grass and into the distance. Moments later, he turned to his men, his face painted black with charcoal from the fortress. He had mentioned something about it helping to hide his scent and further increase camouflage in the dark, even though his bad eye stuck out like a sore thumb with its milky whiteness. No one disagreed, even though it struck them as odd.

"Now I'm only going to say this once, so listen up," he whispered again. "From the fortress it looks like a short walk over a few hills to the city. But, as I'm sure you know or may have forgotten, it's a constant travel through rolling hills and valleys. Anyone with half a brain could set an ambush up anywhere along the road within this tall grass, even if it is half dead and snaps like a damn twig if you just blow on it."

He glanced behind him and drew a dagger slowly from its sheath on his ankle. He played the blade against his hand for a few moments before looking back to them.

"Don't forget, our mission is to get to the city, find out what happened, and report back. No heroics. If you come across any Andorian stragglers from the last battle or even some scouts, do not engage them if it could compromise the mission. You are however encouraged to engage as many and kill as many as you can, so long as we don't fail the mission. All ready? Right. Lets do this."

Spreading out in a chevron formation, they moved quickly and silently through the grass.

"And for the love of Din, be quiet!" Mical hissed as a final warning while they slowly fanned out.

Link and the others were no stranger to this kind of thing, even though Mical was treating them like this was their first time on a stealth mission of any kind. Their company often took little trips behind enemy lines. They usually resulted in complete and utter chaos, sometimes for both sides, but in the end, they were almost always a success for the Hyrulean forces.

He was grateful for them now, when their experience in stealth tactics could be the only thing that kept them alive. Grimly, he pulled two daggers from his belt and held them tightly in his hands. As much as he liked the idea of spilling Andorian blood, he prayed that this time he would not have to. It tended to complicate things, and on a mission like this, they could not afford it.

-

Writhing, heaving, bloating, it squealed with dark pleasures as it felt the warmth spreading across the field. There would be much bloodshed soon. It licked lips which it could not have, and bounded from its perch atop the smoking remnants of house in close proximity to the wall.

It landed without a sound despite its large girth in the center of the once pristine city square. Turning, it purred and jiggled with laughter when it saw the pitiful barricades that had been put up around the square.

The pitiful humans of the town had been taken by surprise and had paid dearly. A good section of their wall was torn to pieces and a little under a quarter of their city was destroyed. Had they suffered enough?

It cackled wickedly, sounds that could rupture organs bellowing from its seething depths. Yes. For now at least, they had suffered quite enough. Now new things were calling it. It smelled death in the air. Or rather, it somehow smelled it with a nose it did not have. A nose it _could not_ have.

It moved away slowly from the cowering humans and their meager barricades, walking towards the ruined gates and towards the openness of the fields. Already it could see in its hellish vision where the blood would be spilled. Fear…anger… It felt them pulsing like cancerous growths before it.

Howling savagely, it bounded towards the field as it bubbled madly. The next harvest would come tonight.

-

"Sir, I see a campfire," Bismark announced, peering over the top of what seemed like the thousandth hill they had climbed

"You're right. A bunch of stragglers from the battle." Mical acknowledged.

About one hundred feet from the top of the hill was a small Andorian camp. The men clustered around the single small campfire looked wretched and frightened. In the chaos of Andoria's retreat yesterday, they had ran the wrong way. It would have been almost comical if there weren't at least twenty of them sitting around the fire, effectively barring their path to the city.

"We have a problem, sir."

"What?" asked Mical, annoyed.

Stefan pointed to several other glowing patches of light to either side of the camp in front of them. They were spaced by a considerable distance, but still easily within shouting distance of each other.

"Well, that rules out the possibility of going around," said Link dryly.

"Quite," said Mical bitterly. The captain looked around and furrowed his brow. "Give me some time to think," he said, before crawling away from them further down the crest of the hill to give himself some sense of solitude.

The others flopped down on the hill tiredly after he had gone, each alone with their own thoughts in the silence of the night.

Link in particular had a lot on his mind. Of all the places he had been, of the things he had done, he had never once thought to find himself in this situation. Yet here he was, trying to sneak back into his own country's capitol city.

The Andorians…even in defeat they managed to hinder them. How he loathed them with every fiber of his being. Their dark skin, lurid body paint, deep voices, unkempt hair, and darkly gleaming eyes spoke of an entire race of savages. A barbaric, shamanistic, warrior society from the jungles south of the Great Forest and Lost Woods, they had risen from an insignificant tribe into a mighty empire through merciless conquest. They accepted only the strong. The weak had no place in their society. Those to old or weak were killed and their bodies were torn apart and used for almost everything. Food, clothing, weapons, jewelry, armor, and even drink. Nothing was wasted.

The blood whine, he realized, was a part of that. Some old man, or perhaps a sickly child, had been slaughtered and their blood was mixed with Goddesses knew what else to create an extremely intoxicating beverage. Almost as if to simply add to the barbarity of the foul drink, warriors of great renown deposited their fluids into it. Back at the fort, seeing Stephen choke on the foul substance when he learned this, Link had found it hilarious. Now, he felt nothing but contempt. The Andorians were a wretched and debased people. They would pillage and burn the lands, take the men strong enough for slave work and the women they deemed fitting for a place in their harems, and leave the rest to slowly die along side their ruined kingdom.

His body shaking terribly in anger, he picked up a rock and began to squeeze. For several minutes he did this, pouring out all the anger he could on the rock. When he opened his hand and let the rock fall to the ground, he sighed and wiped the dust from his hand. The rock almost appeared smaller than when he had picked it up, and it had also cracked in half. He grimaced and shook his head, trying to find some kind of humor in his situation to distract himself from his insatiable anger. Almost instantly, he had it, and he flopped down on his back and stared up at the stars.

Here he was, he thought, the mighty Hero of Time, lying in Hyrule Field in grass that was more ash and rot than plant. He could be in the palace right now he supposed, enjoying the luxuries of the court. His life wouldn't be stained with blood and his soul with the unbearable torment of seeing his land waste away even as he fought for it. But, he had given up that life when he turned down all the generous offers sent his way by Princess Zelda after Ganondorf's fall. He had wanted nothing more than a simple life, uncomplicated and uncorrupted by politics and war.

A home, a loving wife, and children. That's all he had wanted. Now, because of the war, he was nothing more than another disposable soldier. No one even recognized him as the Hero of Time anymore except a select few who had known him well from before.

His status as a legendary hero didn't matter anymore. He was a single man regardless of his title, and up against legions of enemy soldiers he couldn't make much of a difference. Now, if there was a central enemy, a single man with whom he could face off and end the war, then he would do so in a heartbeat. But this wasn't that kind of struggle.

He rubbed his temples and groaned in frustration. If he didn't get skewered on an enemy sword first, this war was going to kill him from the sheer amount of anger it put inside him. He sighed deeply. He just wanted to take a break and see her face again…and be reminded of what he was fighting for.

Any further contemplation was ceased when Captain Mical came crawling back. Situating himself in the middle of them, he looked at each of them in turn and sighed deeply.

"I've taken a look around, and the Andorians seem to have realized something is wrong at the capitol," he said, sighing slowly.

"You mean besides the fact that a huge section of the wall has literally collapsed in on itself as if something kicked it in?"

Mical turned to Davis and gave him a stern look. "Quiet." He sighed again.

"Yes, they've noticed that, and the survivors who fled the wrong way during the retreat have banded together with an otherwise meager scouting force. They now have almost a thousand soldiers they can use to assault the capitol by my estimate."

"But there are at least ten thousand soldiers in the city! Are they mad?" Bismark asked.

"Perhaps," continued Mical. "But more likely, they're desperate. Plus, they figure the mysterious catastrophe has left the city reeling and its defenders mostly dead or wounded. If they attack hard enough and fast enough, they could do a lot of damage. They are surprisingly coordinated from what I've observed, so something tells me they may actually be capable of pulling it off."

There was a brief silence as realization dawned on the soldiers.

"Sir…could the capitol fall?" asked Stephan tentatively.

"Unless we do something, it will at the very least be crippled almost irreversibly."

"But there are only five of us and almost a thousand of them. What could we possibly do?" Bismark asked carefully. "Are you seriously considering..."

"Yes! Now that is quite a bit more like it, captain. I agree! Lets go all out, throw everything we have at them and hope for the best!" Davis was bristling with excitement and already had drawn his sword.

Link rolled his eyes. Damn, cocky fool.

"Yes, you have the right idea for once, Davis," Mical said with a grim expression. Smiling coldly, he drew his sword and turned towards the Andorian encampments. "The mission just changed, men. We will charge, we will fight, and we will almost certainly die."

"What about the recon mission?" asked Link. Was this it, he thought? Was death finally going to catch him so suddenly? He never would have guessed he'd die in a hopeless charge against superior numbers. Something told him the war would take him eventually anyway, so why delay it any longer?

"We will try and break through their lines and run for the city. If we reach it, we can rouse the defenders…if any are left. If they aren't…hide in the ruins, lose any pursuers and make your way back to the fortress." He turned back to them and sighed deeply, standing up in plain view on the top of the hill. "It has been an honor to fight alongside you all." He saluted in the old warrior fashion, gripping his sword in a reversed grip and bringing it to his chest.

The others got to their feet and gave the same salute before moving to stand along side their captain.

"For Hyrule," Mical roared, "and for glory!"

All sense of subtlety lost, the five men charged across the flat plains before the capitol towards a very stunned camp of Andorians.

However, they weren't the only ones charging across the plains that night.

As Link barreled into the first of the dumbfounded Andorians and laid into them all around with vicious and wild swings of his sword, he heard screams of terror and death from further ahead as a terrible screeching rent the air.

A heavy breathing accompanied by what sounded like a distant drumming seemed to erupt all around him as the very earth began to froth and boil violently as if on fire. Pulling his sword from the Andorian he had just felled, Link looked up warily into the Darkness as he felt a powerful presence before him.

It seemed to at him smile when he looked at it. He could barely make it out though. It seemed too barely exist alongside the natural darkness of the night, yet at the same time it was so real and so bold his knees shook from its presence.

Looking into its depths, he saw things. Unspeakable things, impossible things, disturbing things. He saw the very incarnation of perpetual evil and darkness before him, and he felt his nose begin to bleed and tears pour from his eyes when he beheld its disgusting and impossible form.

Hissing, it turned away from him, if had even been facing him in the first place, and tore off through the night, slaughtering everything in its path. The screams were terrible and without end.

When it had left, Link felt a strange sensation come over him. It was as if he was unclean, tainted by something so dark it was impossible to name. His entire body shaking, Link felt his mind bend and threaten to break under the weight of the thing he had just seen.

That…thing, whatever it was, had been so…wrong. He didn't know how to describe it. His head throbbed when he tried to grasp the reality of it. Was there even a reality to grasp? How could there be?

Everything about it was just _wrong_ and out of place. How could something exist as a paradox of so many things at the same time and still be possible? It was real yet unreal, solid yet transparent, terrifying yet calm.

Calm? How had it been calm? No, it couldn't have been. It had terrified him, nearly destroyed him, he was sure. Yet now that it had gone, and he felt its taint left upon him, calm had descended on his weary mind. A strange, bitter and unnatural calm, but a calm none the less.

Taking deep breaths, he managed to shake off the feelings it had left him with and looked around him slowly. No words could capture the horror he felt at his findings.

"No…Oh sweet Goddesses, no!"

As far as he could see in the light of the campfire, the corpses of the dead Andorians and his four former comrades were hanging, inside-out, several feet off the ground. Their lifeless eye sockets, nothing more than deep, black voids, spoke to him of a thousand endless oblivions. He screamed and clutched at his head as the sound of a thousand pounding drums and whooping voices filled his mind.

Coughing and sputtering, he fell to his hands and knees and threw up, a gout of foul bile which stank of something evil. Something tainted. He felt his body go into spasms as he fell over and lost consciousness amidst the forest of suspended bodies as they swung as if on invisible ropes in the night breeze.

-

_Probably the first major horror elements there. Maybe I didn't do that great of a job with it since my dialouge for this chapter was pretty half-assed and it may have made you lost interest and not be very into it when you got to the horror part, but ah well. If you really get a picture of the final scenes in your head, its actually kind of freaky. I know I actually creeped myself out while I writing it when I got a sudden and very, VERY, vivid picture of it in my head. I hope it does the same to you. _


	5. The Wish

_A much longer chapter here for you all this time! I rarely write short chapters, and it's usually hard for me to write long ones like this, so generally I just go with average length stories. But, I just got on a role and here is what you get! And I apologize for the occasional missing word and grammatical mistake. I type a little to fast sometimes._

_In any case, enjoy!_

-

Commander Elswayr sighed as he took in the devastation around him in the light of the rising sun. So much death, he thought sadly.

Bodies, shredded and broken, strewn across the ground and in the ruins and the debris that littered the once pristine streets. Buildings burned and crumbled around him as makeshift fire crews tried to douse the flames with stagnant water. Old houses, taverns, shops, and others. They fell to pieces, burned in the fires that had spread across the city like the plague or crushed underneath the walls when they fell.

Around him, members of the royal guard, encased in their brilliant white plate, searched for survivors alongside the Hyrulean Knights, their shining silver armor trimmed with gold. The men of the city guard and the regular Hyrulean army were also present, garbed in battered steel chain and plate, its color a dull grey from age and neglect.

Grim-faced men towed carts, weaving in and out of rubble and soldiers, stopping whenever they reached a corpse. Tiredly, they hoisted the bodies off the ground and threw them on the cart with the many others they had collected.

A strong wind blew in from the Temple of Time, carrying the scent of burning flesh with it. The wretched old priests worked to the bone as they tended the corpse pyres and asked the Goddesses to accept the departed into their eternal embrace. How could they be handling the act, he wondered, when so much of their creed spoke against it? They would weep later. First, they would burn them all before the plague could infect their lifeless flesh.

He felt so out of place amongst the devastation. His glimmering white armor and long, silken white cape, his pristinely clean skin and short-cropped blonde hair, handsomely perfectly face, and the glowing signet ring that marked him as a close personal aide to Queen Zelda herself. It all made him stand out so much, look, and feel superior, beyond the destruction and miserable people around him.

The idea of it made him ill. He did not wish to stand at such odds with the people he was to defend. But where had he been last night when they had truly needed him most?

Sleeping comfortably in his quarters at the palace, completely unaware of what happened until the next morning.

His fists clenched tightly as he thought of his blatant failure.

One of the corpse trolleys wheeled by in front of him slowly, bringing him back from his thoughts. He saw the faces of some of those thrown on board unceremoniously as it trundled by, the men pulling it not paying him any heed as they went about their mournful task with grim dedication.

Men, women, and children of all ages, their bodies twisted, broken, and bloody. Soldiers missing limbs, missing huge hunks of flesh from their bodies, missing organs that were from them as they fought and died.

Damn them, he thought. Damn the Andorians. They would pay.

He kicked out in frustration at a pile of rubble, scattering rock and dirt through the air in all directions. Then something strange happened: The rubble moved.

And talked.

"Bloody hell! It's bad enough getting buried in rubble without people coming and kicking the living daylights out of me!" someone yelled from under the rubble, their voice muffled.

Stunned momentarily by the oddity of the situation, it took Elswayr a few moments to recover. He dropped to his knees and began scooping the rubble away with his hands as quickly as he could. Eventually, his efforts unearthed a hand, which clenched and unclenched as it reached for the outside.

Elswayr gripped it and pulled roughly, but stopped when there was a cry from the trapped individual.

"Easy there!" shouted the man under the rubble. "There's a poor kid in here with me, go easy so you don't hurt him!"

Reprimanding himself for his rash action, Elswayr further dug out the hand until the man had his arm free and smashed away at his prison from the inside with great vigor. Gripping his hand again, Elswayr pulled him free in an outward explosion of earth and rock. The man and his young companion flew into Elswayr, knocking him back and to the ground, scuffing his shining armor with dirt and stone.

As the two scrambled off him quickly, Elswayr coughed several times as he sat up. Behind him, he heard the man he had saved yelling loudly.

"Hey! Hold on a second, kid!" Sighing, the man turned to face Elswayr and froze. Elswayr turned to look at him and laughed, halfheartedly given the gloom of the day, but it was a laugh nonetheless.

"C-Commander Elswayr!" the man stammered as he saluted smartly.

"Captain Oswin. You survived, I see," Elswayr said with a smile on the edges of his mouth.

"Y-Yes, sir. I…"

"In the business of saving children and hiding under rubble now, are you?" Elswayr asked jokingly.

"If you mean ungrateful wretches who run away without thanking you, then yes." Oswin replied, annoyed as he looked in the direction the child had run. "But I certainly wasn't going to let him wander alone while that…that thing…was on the loose…" His voice began to falter and he looked towards the ground helplessly as his mood suddenly took a turn for the worse. "I'm sorry, sir…"

"For what?"

"I failed you, commander. I failed my men. I failed the people of Hyrule," Oswin said with a depressing tone. "I am unworthy of bearing this holy sigil!" he hissed, indicating the small golden Triforce pinned to his chest over his worn steel chain armor.

Elswayr placed a hand on his shoulder as Oswin turned away from him in shame. "I don't know what happened here last night, captain. But I do know that in the face of whoever did this," he indicated the destruction around them with a trembling hand, "Hyrulean soldiers stood firm. They dug in their feet and refused to take one-step back in the face of their foe. Were you not among them, Oswin, as they gave their blood for their country?"

"Yes, of course I was commander…but I…I…" He shrugged off Elswayr's hand and stumbled forward, falling to his knees before a pile of rubble and shattered bodies. "I cannot bear it, sir!" he cried, burying his face in his hands and weeping terribly. "We fought, oh how we fought, but it made no difference! We were butchered, torn to shreds! The very walls had been torn asunder by its power and we believed we could stop it! Oh, what fools we were…"

Elswayr approached the distraught figure of his subordinate slowly from behind. Coming next to him, he rested on one knee and turned to Oswin, removing his tattered chain cowl. His entire head was caked in dried blood; his own or otherwise, Elswayr could not tell. He waved over a few nearby soldiers as Oswin began retching.

"Be strong, captain. It is over now. We shall get you cleaned up and in good shape again. Then, you may tell us your story." Elswayr said softly, patting Oswin on the shoulder as he stood up. Indicating the four soldiers he had called over to grab Oswin and follow him to the castle, Elswayr began to walk away when a voice, entirely inhuman, began to project into the air around him, not entirely physical and heard more in the mind than in the ear.

"…_redblueyellowgreenredblueyellowgreenredblue…"_

Stopping dead in his tracks, Elswayr turned around and stared wide-eyed at the twitching and writhing figure of Oswin. The soldiers stepped away from him quickly, lowering their spears as their courage began to wane in the face of such a disturbing sight.

"What in Faore's name…" Elswayr gasped as he drew his sword and took a step back in horror as Oswin began to writhe more violently.

"…_blueyellowgreenredgreenblueredyellowgreenblueredyellowredyellow…"_

Oswin's twitching head shot up suddenly and unnaturally as if held and controlled like a puppet on strings. He stared directly at Elswayr, who recoiled greatly under the piercing glare. Oswin's mouth twisted into a feral grin and serpentine fangs hang over his lower lip. His eyes were impermeable pools of darkness, black as the void.

"…_redyellowgreenblueredyellowgreenblueblackblackBLACKBLACKBLACK!!!"_

-

"Hahaha! Giv' meh anotha round 'ere, girlie!"

"Don't you think you've had enough, sergeant?" The 'girlie' asked, putting her hands on her hips.

"Damn its girlie, Ise wahnts anotha drink!"

Malon sighed as the sergeant stood from his bar stool and lunged towards her with a partially empty glass thrust forward, sloshing some of the liquid onto her. He failed to understand in his stupor that there was a large counter between him and her. Stopped dead in his tracks by the solid counter, he fell backwards on the floor uselessly, his glass clattering to the floor as he began snoring loudly.

She called Ingo over and indicated the fallen drunk. Rolling his eyes, he began to drag him away so he would not be trampled. Malon smiled weakly when she saw the aging Ingo struggling with the massive man. She wiped her wet hands on her apron and leaned back, sighing loudly. Her pink skirt was stained and ripped in numerous spots, and she barely had time to patch it up in recent days. Her white blouse, along with the yellow bandanna she wore around her neck had both seen far better days as well.

The fiery red hair, which had been her pride and joy, was now matted down and greasy. She played with one of the strands and sighed at how dry and grimy it was. Her boots were little more than solid dirt on her feet, and the bags under her eyes spoke of great stress and exhaustion.

She sighed again and looked around the tavern that had once been her family's home. Instead of the humble décor of their farmhouse, the room was no longer filled with many round tables and chairs. Soldiers filled every available spot, drinking, gambling, yelling, singing, talking. Jovial music played constantly in the background, a small troupe of performers standing on the largest table playing songs quickly and expertly to the rhythmic clapping, cheering, and singing of the soldiers who happened to be watching them.

Some of the larger tables sported solid metal poles in their center that stretched to the ceiling. On them, many a voluptuous and appealing woman danced scantily clad, for the hard-earned money of the soldiers. Some of the soldiers desperately sought an answer to an all too common question: buy beer and enjoy watching the women, or buy no beer but buy the company of a female companion for later that night. Few had enough wealth for both.

The back of the room, where Malon now stood observing the rest of it, was one very long counter. In front of it, barstools were spaced evenly all the way along its length. It was here that the outcasts; the partially insane, the weird, the overly disgusting, and the hopeless soldiers sat. They would mumble sadly to themselves as they drowned their pain and their worry with deadly doses of alcohol.

Of which there was luckily an enormous supply. Behind the counter, away from the eyes of the thirsty soldiers, was an almost impossible amount of beer, wine, rum, brandy, and many other forms of toxic beverages contained in keg after keg and barrel after barrel. A door behind the counter led to a massive storeroom where even more kegs and barrels were kept for when those out front ran dry. It was best to avoid running out alcohol in bar filled with raucous and drunken soldiers, after all. They were trained killers and most of them had not felt the comfort of a woman in a very long time, despite the several female 'employees' available for their viewing, and intimate, pleasure. If they rioted, Malon, as a woman, would not be safe.

She shuddered when the thought crossed her mind again and she sat down on an empty barrel, putting her out of sight behind the counter. Holding her head in her hands, she stared towards the floor and groaned in frustration. She hated this place.

She was sick of the perverted stares and advances of almost every man in the bar. Yes, some of the younger ones were cute, but they were no different from any of the others; twisted men who had little to live for and would not hesitate to take from her what she would not give if they had the chance.

Tears began to form in her eyes when she recalled the circumstances that had seen their simple ranch turned into an armed camp and staging ground for the Hyrulean army. She remembered it had been almost three years ago, when her father had roused her hurriedly. The Andorians were on the march he had told her, and they needed to get off the ranch before they came and burned it to the ground with them inside it.

Malon knew now, from the stories she heard from some of the saner, and some of the rather insane, soldiers that even if they had not been killed in the flames when the Andorians torched the ranch, their life would have been Hell as Andorian slaves. Her father would be a wretched piece of filth, trodden on and beaten to drive the Andorian industry of war, while she would be an unwilling concubine to an influential warrior who won her life.

She thanked the Goddesses that they had avoided that fate, that the Hyrulean army had arrived to exterminate the Andorians in a bloody battle on the fields before the ranch. Their ranch and way of life had been spared, for then. It was not long however, before a Hyrulean army, several thousand strong, marched upon the ranch.

Their leader, one Commander Philida, had orders from the king and queen themselves. The ranch, their Lon Lon Ranch, was now the sole property of Philida, and he was to turn it into a bastion of military power on the Western Hyrulean Plains to keep Andorian advances in check there.

Her father had at first refused vehemently but there was no arguing with someone who carried such orders and who had so many men at his back. So, before long, their ranch was irreversibly changed. Fortifications were set up all around, displaced peasants from other villages were brought in to help grow the food that would feed the soldiers, making the ranch a self-supporting fortress, and many of the buildings were converted into barracks. Their house had been turned into a tavern for the entertainment of the soldiers stationed there.

More than anything else, she hated that. Her home, where she had spent her entire life through thick and thin, was now nothing more than a haven for drunken idiots who were trying to forget how many people they were forced to gut daily just to stay alive on the battlefield. Yes, their lives and their ranch were still intact. But now the Hyruleans that had saved it were ruining it more and more with every day. Malon knew they were likely the only reason she and her father and Ingo were still alive, but she could not but feel bitter about what they were doing to the ranch.

It was their home, and it was not fair, she thought.

"What's wrong, Malon?" asked a deep but gentle voice from above her. Looking up, Malon hurriedly wiped the tears from her eyes while her father merely smiled. "Come on now, cheer up. The mood is supposed to be festive!" He waved an arm around the room and chuckled, causing his large gut to wobble. "We won a large battle the other day. Somewhere round the Zora River Ridge, I heard."

Malon smiled weakly at her father as he stroked his daughter's face lovingly. "What has you so depressed suddenly?" Talon asked, concern written over his face. "You weren't like this earlier." He looked up suddenly as a loud crash, and semi-insane laughter, erupted from across the room where an older soldier had fallen out of his chair while watching one of the dancers.

"It's just…" Malon began, biting her lower lips nervously. "This isn't fair, dad…"

"What isn't, darling?"

"That we have to serve these…these idiots while they ruin our ranch." Malon said, sighing loudly. "I just wish we could go back to before the war… I'd rather live under Ganondorf's shadow than be an object for all of these disgusting men to gawk at, dad."

"Under Ganondorf, Malon? Are you serious?" Talon asked, shocked to hear such a thing. Malon nodded slowly but surely. "Why?" 

"Because, at least back then he came to see me…" She trailed off weakly and buried her face in her fathers alcohol stained white apron. "At least back then I could look forward to something!"

Embracing his daughter tightly, Talon rubbed her back gently. "I'm sorry, darling. I wish I could so something for you, but there isn't anything to be done. Until the war is over this is how things have to be…" Talon tried to put on a strong face, but felt himself quivering with frustration all the same. A pounding on the counter roused them both from the embrace.

Ingo, in dirty black pants, a stained white shirt and apron, and grime encrusted boots stood before the counter staring sadly at the father and daughter pair. "I'm real sorry to interrupt Talon," he said sadly, "but some of them are getting a little too worked up. I think we need some more booze to knock them out for the night."

"Ah," acknowledged Talon as he let go of Malon and stood up. He turned back to her and smiled weakly, brushing down his overalls and hopelessly stained apron. "You run along now, Malon. Go get some fresh air. It will help." His daughter nodded happily, as she stood up, taking off her own stained apron and throwing it to Ingo who caught it and went to hang it up.

"You be safe now, Malon. Don't go near the barracks." Talon said as Malon walked away quickly, opening the small gate in the counter and rushing for the doors. She was so relieved to get outside and away from the smell of sweat, smoke, and alcohol that she barely noticed the hungry stares thrown her way by most of the soldiers. It did not matter of course, since none of them were sober enough to make any move that could threaten her.

-

Malon stood leaning against the battlements and overlooking Hyrule Field lazily. Her father been right, all she needed was some fresh air. Taking another deep breath, she stretched and sat down against the wall, looking up into the night sky.

The stars, millions of them as far as she could tell, dominated the sky, sparkling brightly so many tiny suns. In her imagination, she traced lines through them, creating random and sometimes brilliant patterns. She sighed loudly and pulled her knees to her chest.

She felt so insignificant looking up at the stars. What was her place in the world, she wondered? Was she destined for something great, something that would go down in history and be remembered for all ages? Or would she live her life out plainly, and fade into obscurity after her passing, having done nothing of enough importance to be remembered by anyone?

Leaning her head back against the wall, she watched the smoke trail from her former house's chimney rise into the night sky slowly, a cool breeze occasionally blowing it away into random wisps. Again, she found her gaze drawn to the stars above as she followed the path of the smoke.

Staring into the blackness of space for a while, she felt her eyelids begin to droop. Yawning loudly, she shut her eyes and stretched her arms above her head. When she opened her eyes again, she saw a peculiar sight amongst the stars above.

A flash of light, shooting across the night sky, her eyes tracked it perfectly as its journey carried it through the stars above.

"A shooting star!" She whispered happily to herself. She remembered the stories her mother had told her of shooting stars as a young child well. She had to act quickly, before someone else made their wish.

"I wish…" she began, thinking quickly. "For an adventure like no other. I wish for my hero to finally come and take me away on a journey that will be remembered forever…" She blushed when she realized how childish her wish sounded, but her emerald green eyes shimmered brighter than any star in the sky when she saw the shooting star vanish right after she made her wish.

If what her mother had told her was true, than the star had heard her wish above all others. With childlike glee, she clasped her hands together and thanked the Goddesses. She already believed, without a doubt, that her wish would come to pass.

"Funny," said a strange voice from the stairs that lead down to the ground. "I thought you were a little to old to be putting all your hopes and dreams into a silly little fairytale." A young soldier, his spear slung carelessly over his shoulder, said. He stepped forward and removed his helmet, revealing a mess of black locks, a very slightly feminine face with hard angular features, and vibrant green eyes. He bent down on one knee before Malon and took her hand in his.

"I could be your hero, Miss Malon." He said slyly, a broad smile on his lips. Malon giggled and allowed him to kiss her hand in a knightly fashion. "I could take you on an adventure." He grinned broadly and winked at her.

"Oh, you pervert!" Malon exclaimed, pushing him away with a laugh. He fell backwards and landed on his butt, looking towards Malon with a look of utter heartbreak. The young farm girl giggled at him again.

"Ah, you are too cruel, my love!" The young soldier said again, grinning. "I will win your heart yet!" he exclaimed. "No woman can resist my charms."

"Oh, please, Hector." Malon said as she shook her finger at him. "You know as well as I do that you've never been with a woman in your life." Hector's face turned from a broad grin to one of stubbornness as he crossed his arms and looked away from Malon. "And with that attitude," she laughed, "you won't get one anytime soon."

Chuckling, Hector stood up, wiping some dust off his battered steel chain mail, and stepped towards the wall, leaning on the battlements and scanning the plains before the ranch idly.

"So you pulled sentry duty again?" asked Malon. She walked next to him and leaned against the wall, coming up at least two heads shorter. Her immensely small stature compared to others had stopped shocking her now, after spending so much time around so many people, whether she liked it or not. She was only a few inches over five feet, after all.

"Yea," he said slowly. "They just like picking on the young one's, those old fogies." They both laughed when they pictured the older soldiers sitting in the tavern drinking until their livers nearly burst. "Of course, if they realized how much you love coming up here I'm sure they'd be all over the position."

Malon nodded and shivered as a cool breeze whipped through the night. She moved closer to Hector and he put an arm around her shoulder, pulling her close to keep her warm. Despite all appearances, their relationship was merely platonic; in just the two years since Hector had been stationed on the ranch, they had grown closer than most siblings did in a lifetime.

"Except I wouldn't be up here if they did that, so either way they miss out," giggled Malon. Hector nodded silently in agreement, as he continued to scan the fields. "You take this rather seriously, don't you?" Malon asked.

"I have to, Malon. You never know when those savages may attack. Darkness does not ward them off as much it would us. We have to constantly be at the ready," he said simply, the joking tone in his voice gone.

Looking up at his stern face as he kept a vigil over the fields, Malon had to try hard to suppress her laughter. He had been brought up well and schooled in the ways of chivalry by his father, but ultimately proved unable to make it as a Hyrulean Knight like his father had wanted. It was most likely his insatiable desire to just laugh everything off and have fun with life that made him unable to live the life of a knight, though elements of his strict upbringing and discipline were everywhere.

For one thing, Malon had never seen even a statue keep such stern face as it observed what was before it. She sighed. Where would she have been without Hector? After the war broke out and she lost all contact with _him_, she had been alone. Then, out of the blue, Hector had shown up two years into the war and one year into the army's occupation of the ranch. Hector had brought her back from despair with his invaluable friendship, and though he would never truly replace the void in her heart, she felt for _him_, Hector would always have a special place in her heart.

"So what did you wish for?" Malon asked him suddenly. He broke his stare over the fields and turned to look down at her, a questioning look on his face.

"What?"

"What did you wish for?" she asked again, a small smile on her lips as she looked at his perplexed face. Suddenly he mouthed the word 'oh' and chuckled.

"From the star? Well, what I wished for was that someone very special and deserving had their wish granted." He smiled at her and patted her on the head. "Aren't I just the most selfless person you know?" he beamed.

"Hector, you're too sweet." Malon said, hugging him tightly. "Wait a minute…" she said, releasing him. "Are you trying to butter me up for something?" Hector laughed and rubbed the back of his neck, looking towards the ground.

"Well…kind of…" Her gaze pierced him and he flinched. "I-I mean, maybe you could, you know, round me up some free…some free…" He trailed off slowly, gawking at something in the distance.

"What? What is it?" asked Malon, concerned by the look on his face. Hector could only point with a trembling hand. Malon looked towards where he indicated and gasped in shock, stumbling backwards. "What is that? What's going on!" she exclaimed, grabbing hold of Hector's arm as she panicked.

The Darkness rose from the field, its tendrils writhing as it blotted out the stars above. Malon screamed and, along with Hector, half ran, half leapt off the wall. Hector blew the Horn of Hyrule as he ran, and soon every soldier sober enough to stand was hurriedly assembling.

Easily, with otherworldly grace, the Darkness descended on them.

-

_Reviews appreciated. I will update as soon as I can._


	6. Broken Forest

_Hey all, sorry for the long wait. I've just been busy with a lot of stuff. I hope this chapter makes up for the long wait. Read, enjoy, and review please!_

-

He was a lean man, his thin chain vest clinging to his fame tightly. His chain-mail cowl cast a great shadow over most of his face; only the lower jaw was visible. More chain-mail armor covered the rest of his body, so that he was completely protected in the cost-efficient stuff.

Using his short spear as an aide, he took a labored step forward. He stopped, bending forward slowly with a groan and leaning heavily on his spear. Panting heavily, he lifted his head weakly to look up. Nothing but trees. All around. Endless. Enclosing.

He gritted his teethe and wiped his left forearm over his forehead. His armor glistened brilliantly in a sunbeam which penetrated the tree canopy and shined on him. Sweat dripped off him in a steady river, and he groaned in discomfort. Turning around, he cast a weary glance over the others: Nearly five hundred men, walking through the forest and moaning dreadfully at the hardship involved in such a task.

He growled and stood up straight, throwing his cowl into the underbrush and turning to face his men. Those that saw the change in him stopped; those that couldn't see him stopped when those in front of them stopped. His dark skin, drenched in sweat, seemed to glow in the light of the sunbeam as he stood before them, panting.

"We are Andorian!" he roared, beating a hand to his chest with a weak effort. "We are children of the great Earth Mother! The mighty Savanna is our home! The law of the three Shaman guides us!" he continued, beating a hand to his chest with each mention of a sacred deity, harder each time. "The All-Father's will has brought us here; the All-Father's strength shall see us through here!"

A series of shouts and roars from the ranks of men came back in reply.

"We are strong! This sea of trees is nothing! It shall not defeat us! We will overcome the fell magics of this place and burn it to the ground, and then we shall march on to join our brothers in combat!"

They began chanting, a loud whooping as they thrust their hands or weapons into the air or beat them against their chests. Unbeknownst to the Andorians, the forest began to whisper as they worked themselves into a mad frenzy. A wind blew through the woods, stirring the leaves and branches.

A smaller Andorian soldier, barely a man, caught a glimpse of something high above in the branches. He stopped chanting, and focused on it. A patch of leaves, rustled by the wind. Nothing more, he thought. Then, as he began to take up the chant again, he saw it.

A twinge of movement in the leaves, against the flow of the wind.

The boy had spent enough time hunting on the savannah outside of the great cities of the empire to know what it meant. That wasn't a patch of leaves at all. There was something in the branches above them. He stood, transfixed, as he watched it move with almost imperceptible speed.

To late he caught it; the bright silver flash of metal, glinting in the sunbeam. He cried out, but it was to late.

The leader of the Andorian column stopped, transfixed, his hand still raised in the air. His short spear fell uselessly to the ground as he gurgled in agony. A spittle of blood was all that his ruined throat managed to produce, and with quick movement the steel impaled through it was withdrawn and his corpse fell to the ground face first. His blood pooled around him slowly on the dark forest floor.

The Andorians stood in shock at the fate that had so suddenly befallen their leader. They looked up towards the figure that had done it, rage in their eyes and a roar in their throats.

A dark figure, swathed in a long black cape, bearing terrible runes and insignias emblazoned in crimson, stared at them from the dark depths of its hood. Two emotionless white orbs glowed dimly as it regarded them and their fallen leader with as much care as a man might have for a swatted fly. The ends of its cape fluttered in the wind and it laughed quietly at them. Its laughter quickly escalated to a deranged cackle as it sheathed its bloody dagger and threw back its cape and drew a serrated short sword and a short axe with a blade shaped like a scythe.

"I am the Reaper..." it hissed, taking a step towards the Andorians as its cape billowed behind it wildly as if caught in a gale. "The Enforcer of the Wretched... The Evil, the Wicked, the Mad...the Damned, the Insane, the Ruined..."

Its eyes burst into sudden life, glowing brightly with savage white fire.

"You shall not interfere!"

It charged the Andorians, its weapons flashing brilliantly in the light of the sunbeam. The first man fell, spinning away after a outward blow from the sword tore open his abdomen, the comb-like edge shearing through his chain mail as if it wasn't even there. His guts hung awkwardly from his stomach as he wretched and died.

Another man went down, the sword raking down his right arm and tearing it to pieces. He writhed on the ground, arterial blood pouring from his wounds, as a third man went down hard. The sickle had removed the better part of his face in one clean sweep.

Several more fell until the figure was amongst the bulk of them. Like a whirlwind, it pulled them in and flung them back out, bloodied and broken. Those that turned to flee were mercilessly cut down by the figure that seemed to be everywhere at once. Those that tried to fight back were brutally cut down as they approached the figure.

The forest seemed to seethe and rage at the atrocity happening within its depths. Trees seemed to whisper, creaking loudly in the wind as the screams of the doomed Andorians echoed through the depths of the ancient woods.

The boy turned and ran as his last comrade was cast down to the earth in painful flash of steel and blood. His heart hammered against his chest, and he felt as if one of the Beast Kings themselves was chasing him. He could almost feel the hot breath on his neck.

He shuddered, and closed his eyes as he shook his head and pushed the thought away. The low hanging tree branch came out of nowhere.

Laying on the forest floor, rubbing his swore forehead, he stared up into the forest canopy and watched as the trees swam in and out of focus. He closed his eyes against the throbbing in his head and tried to sit up, only to find a weight pressing down on his chest pinned him down.

He opened his eyes slowly. He screamed.

The blazing orbs of the dark figure were mere inches from his own, and he felt its icy breath upon his face. It smelled worse than a carcass left to rot in the hot sun of the savannah for many weeks. He felt the blood drain from his face as he began shaking uncontrollably.

To stare death itself in the face...meant but one thing.

He whimpered helplessly and began to cry as the figure grabbed him by the throat and hoisted him into the air. Kicking and clawing at its arm proved futile. His struggling slowly grew weaker and he felt his lungs burn as he desperately tried to take a breath.

The figure cackled and drew a dagger from a sheath on its belt. It smiled wickedly at him, then threw him straight into the air. With inhuman speed it leapt up at him, leading with its dagger. The blade came up at an angle and shredded his diaphragm, breaking upwards through his ribcage and exiting at the collar bone.

The boy hit the ground with a thud, coughing and sputtering in agony as he felt life leave his limbs almost instantly. Very soon, his vision darkened and the last thing he felt was blinding pain coursing through his body.

Pausing to admire its handiwork on the boy for a moment, the figure cackled and then turned back to the rest. So much intricacy could be viewed in its work, it thought. The way a blade cut, so the blood would flow greatly, or merely trickle. The subtle tear of the flesh. That final expression the dead held as life departed their bodies.

It looked around. The art of the kill, it reasoned, was one of the most delicate. That perfect kill, the perfect murder... Almost impossible to obtain. But if found, it was so worth it. A great slaughter like this was sheer ecstasy. With so many dead, there had to be a perfect kill somewhere amongst the corpses.

"So worth it..." it hissed, stooping low and admiring the lacerations on a man's face.

It remembered that stroke. The way the serrated teeth of its sword and sliced across his face and ripped out his eyes. His screams had risen above the rest, for a time. It threw its head back and laughed, the white flames that burned in its eyes rearing up violently and taking on a tinge of crimson.

Suddenly, it stopped, narrowing its eyes and glancing behind it with a quick turn of its head. It saw a tiny speck of light as something darted behind a tree. Grinning wickedly, it turned around and began to walk towards the tree in question, stepping without a care on the bodies.

It could feel an increase in tension in the air, an increase in fear. An almost inaudible whimper reached its ears. It drew its dagger and smashed it into the tree, gouging a large hole in it and sending wood chips in every direction. There was a quiet gasp of alarm from the other side but no sign of further movement.

It smirked.

As it was about to step around the tree and grab the unfortunate cowering behind it, it paused. A thoughtful look crossed its face, followed by one of annoyance. It snarled in anger and ripped its dagger out of the tree and sheathed it, walking away quickly.

"Master calls... You must feel lucky." it hissed, seething as it took a final glance towards the tree. "Don't think you've seen the last of me... If you interfere, your fate will be far worse than there's..."

With a final deranged cackle, the figure leapt impossibly high into the air, bursting through the forest canopy and disappearing from sight.

A few tense moments of silence passed.

Slowly, tentatively, a tiny ball of light flew from behind the tree. It stopped and hovered in midair, looking around at the massacre with shudder. It bobbed up and down and flew into the center of the forest trail, stopping to take another look around.

"Oh, this is just..."

"...terrible."

A young girl stepped from behind the tree slowly, her face deathly pale. She fidgeted with her green tunic and brushed some tree bark out of her light green hair as she stepped onto the forest trail. Standing beside her fairy, the girl began to gag and sank weakly to knees.

"Saria!" said the tiny fairy in alarm as it rushed to her side. "We need to leave this place, right now!"

The Kokiri gritted her teeth and stood up slowly, her body shaking. "I'm fine, Safie."

She winced and fell to her knees, clutching her head.

"You are most certainly not fine!" yelled the fairy indignantly. "Look at you! You're shaking! You cant stay here amongst all this...this..." She gestured to all the gore around her, retching at the sight.

The fairy flew up to her partner's face when she didn't respond and reached out to touch her face with her hands. "Saria...you couldn't have stopped this. Even if you are a guardian of the forest, your powers couldn't have done anything against that...thing. "

"Cant you feel it Safie?" Saria asked, looking up at her friend slowly. "The forest...has been defiled... That thing was pure evil. Now a dark presence has been cast over this place..."

Panting heavily as her face twisted with pain, Saria watched as the very ground around her began to wither and die, its color changing rapidly to a sickly brown. She jumped to her feet with a yelp, dashing into the trees on the other side of the trail and running out of sight. Safie flew after her, beating her tiny wings as fast as she could to keep up with her terrified companion.

She found Saria sitting against the trunk of a large and ancient oak tree, her knees clutched to her chest and her head down. Tears dripped slowly down her face as she looked up at Safie's approach. Saria motioned for her to sit on her shoulder and the two sat in silence for a while.

"The Deku Tree's magic should prevent evil from entering the woods, though. Its prevented the Andorians from burning it down so far." Safie said suddenly, breaking the silence and Saria's contemplation.

"Maybe the new Deku Tree's magic isn't strong enough..." said Saria thoughtfully, a hint of sadness in her voice.

Safie frowned. She had not considered that, and now the very real possibility of such a disaster had her frightened. Neither of them seemed to be able to find the words to speak and so the two of them sat in silence again, time meaning little to either of the immortal beings as it ticked by slowly.

"Its not native to the forest, Safie." said Saria suddenly.

The fairy jumped slightly in surprise, then turned to stare at her partner. "You mean that evil?"

Saria nodded. "I think its coming from within Hyrule somewhere, but I'm not entirely sure."

"Well, you are a Sage, Saria. You should be able to figure these kind of things out."

Safie flew around Saria's head a few times before landing on her shoulder again. Saria turned to her and offered her an open palm, which she hopped onto eagerly as Saria stood up and brushed herself off with her free hand.

"Where are we going, Saria? You know we cant leave the forest to warn anyone in Hyrule."

"We have to try, Safie! Its just a feeling, but something tells me this evil might be worse than even Ganondorf if we just let it go unopposed!"

Shuddering at the thought, both of them hurried in the direction of the Deku Tree's grove.

-

"Then...you did as you were ordered? You destroyed them all?"

The figure nodded slowly, the white flames of its eyes moving in the darkness all that betrayed the movement. Watching from his throne, the man smiled broadly and clapped his hands together in childlike glee.

"I knew it! I could feel their agony as their spirits were sent screaming into the Underworld!" He took a few moments to compose himself, breathing deep and smoothing out the folds in his heavy robes.

"Master?"

"Hmm?"

"Why did you call me back?"

Silence settled over the two, seeming to thicken the darkness around them temporarily, before the man spoke again. The eyes of the figure on the floor were dim pools of calm white liquid as they watched him.

"I felt it necessary to tell you of your next assignment," he said coolly. "Nothing more. Why do you inquire?"

The figure's eyes lit up slightly. "When I was there, stalking over the corpses of the weaklings I had slain, I felt something Master. A power, pure and righteous. It burned to be in its presence, but I felt I could not leave it alone..."

Laughing the man looked down at his servant. Two dull thumps echoed throughout the chamber as he placed his feet to rest on the floor. In the darkness, a twinkle from his Master's eyes cause the figure to flinch by a fraction of an inch. Recovered, the figure frowned when it sensed the arrogant smirk its Master wore.

"And? What did you do with this power?"

"I almost destroyed it... Then I was called back."

Pursing his lips, the man stroked his chin and seemed to study the situation for a few moments. "Bah. It is of no concern. You slew all the Andorians in that group? Let none escape to reach Hyrule or home?"

The figure nodded, its eyes glowing slightly brighter.

"All is well then. You worry to much. You should know by now that this plan cannot fail; I've worked to long on it for that." He cast a piercing stare over his kneeling servant. "The only thing that could jeopardize my plans in fact, would be incompetence amongst my followers..."

"Master..." the figure hissed, beginning to rise.

"Oh, shut up and kneel," the man said, waving away the stare of the blazing white orbs. "Be a good little servant and listen to what I need you to do next."

"I am..." the figure hesitated for a second, rolling its eyes and then shutting them and bowing its head in defeat. "...ready to do as you command."

"Good." Rising from the solid stone throne on which he sat, the man stepped slowly down the small stairs surrounding it. "Now listen well. You have killed a few hundred Andorians. A great victory for a single person, and they will all be talking of the wicked demon which stalks the woods. Their morale will plummet."

"And that will lead to the collapse of Andoria's war on Hyrule. Right Master?"

"Bingo, absolutely, right on the damned mark you lousy bastard! We cant very well have Andoria trying to saw Hyrule's head off, now can we? Conflicts with to many of my plans. Oh yes, far to many of my plans..." He trailed off slowly, a mad grin on his face and his right eye twitching slightly.

"Anyway, moving on. Now, while that may eliminate one threat in the long term, in the short term we have that idiot cloud gallivanting about the countryside. Killing, maiming, burning, driving people insane. That sort of thing. Nasty stuff, considering it almost single-handedly sacked the capitol the other day. Hyrule is in disarray and no one outside the capitol knows what happened yet." He sighed and then chuckled to himself.

"Damn, but these Hylians sure do have a poor sense of logistics. Their capitol is attacked by a demonic force and it takes them several to get the word out...ha! Luckily, that eyesore of a fort will keep the Andorians from exploiting their idiocy and destroying Hyrule and my plans."

"Master?" asked the figure from the floor, still kneeling with his head bowed. "My assignment?"

Laughing, the man returned to his throne and sat down in it sideways, draping his legs over the armrest. "Patience! There is no need to rush! Or...maybe there is. That all depends. How fast can you run?"

The figure raised its head and looked at him, the mighty white blazes of its eyes killing his mad grin instantly.

"Fine, fine! Touchy..." He shifted himself in his throne so that he was sitting upright again, and pulled a package out of his robes and tossed it to his servant. "I'm getting sick of that freaking cloud. Its clear to me now that we have no hope of taking control of it again. Looking back, I guess it wasn't a good idea to let it roam free in the first place...I thought that maybe if I let it devour a village or two, it would like me and my cause more. Gee, was I wrong... Nasty bugger. To think we serve the same Lord! Bah!"

"...then this is...?" The figure pulled a silver long sword from the package and swung it experimentally.

"Yes...truesilver. Pure good, I know. Does it burn? Yes? No? Well, I don't care in either case. Plunge that into its Eviscerated Heart and that should kill it. Or at least banish it back to the other side. As long as you get it out my hair..."

The figure sheathed the sword carefully, tearing a piece of fabric from its cloak and wrapping it around the hand that had gripped the hilt. "Master, is this really necessary?" it asked. "Why don't we just let it run wild and cause chaos. Its easier for your agents to work in such conditions anyway."

"Fool!" the man laughed. "If that stupid thing stays at large, it might kill him! And then I'll lose track of the item! Who knows how long it would take to find it again! In fact, it might kill both of them and I'd lose track of both! No, much better to kill it and manipulate the Hylians myself than to let it kill them all. Though I do admit, I would like to let it kill them. It would be...so amusing."

Nodding slowly, the figure turned around and departed for the door on the far side of the dark chamber. The man felt almost lost in the darkness temporarily without the blazing white eyes illuminating his vision.

_BLACKBLACKBLACK!!!_

He shook his head violently, snapping back to reality and realizing he was alone in the dark chamber. Alone in the darkness. Shaking, he wrapped his arms around himself and began whimpering and talking to himself in a weak voice.

"The darkness comes to take me away I try and run but he makes me stay and when I cry out for you I hear only the laughter ringing so clear and the blood in my veins begins to boil, and I wish only to see him, broken damned and dead..." He lifted his head up and stared into the darkness, his eyes dark pools of oblivion to match. "Yes...dead..."


	7. Hey! Listen! Announcement here!

ATTENTION

Recently I remembered this story. Somehow, somewhere, I forgot about it. To anyone who read the story up to this point and enjoyed it, I apologize. Its not that I didn't want to write it or that I didn't have a plot, I just somehow stopped writing it. Just one of those odd little things, you know?

But that's the bad news. The good news, if you liked the story, is that I do intend to essentially…start it again. Yes, I have a knack for starting things, stopping, then remaking them. It's a bad habit, really. But in any case, I have pretty much everything in mind already. This story had a lot of things that seemed off and didn't make sense. By starting it again, I will essentially eliminate those things and flesh out the good things, while bringing in new good things. Now, even if you doubt me, I assure you all that someday I will have a completed story on here. This one wasn't it, but maybe when its reborn it can be… Keep me on your author alert if you want to be kept posted.

Also, when I post the renewed version, this one will most likely be taken down. Not that it matters, of course.


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